


Shooter

by CuddlerOfDragons



Series: Deserving Of Hell? [2]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-23 23:27:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20897876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuddlerOfDragons/pseuds/CuddlerOfDragons
Summary: Companion piece to 'Driver'.





	Shooter

It wasn’t like Delilah was his _best_ customer and Barnes had promised him _cash _\- just as soon as the royalties came in - _and _given him an expensive watch as a down payment. He figured it was win win - the watch would be worth a few grand, whether he sold it or handed it back to Barnes, when the _big_ money came through.

He knew Delilah was in L.A. and he’d been following her movements on social media. To be safe, Barnes was going to make sure he had alibis for the whole week but Eddie was pretty sure he could make it happen tonight.

He had a car - stolen, disposable - he had a driver in mind. Petey. Dumb-ass was a liability, turning up late to drops, trying to skim money, out of control habit… he had a plan for _that_, too. He fingered the baggie in his pocket. Pure uncut product. Petey shot up with this, it’d be lights out - permanently. No great loss. No come back on _him_. No witness.

Son-of-a-bitch wasn’t answering his phone.

He drove to Petey’s place.

He’s not home. Down in the basement, Devon was asleep on his sofa. Good lad, Devon, reliable, in control of his habit. A rarity.

Eddie kicks the sofa.

“Where’s Petey?” He demands, once Devon looks _aware_.

“Dunno.”

“I need a driver, he’s not answering his phone.”

“I c’n drive.” He‘s pulling on a tee shirt and Eddie _needs_ a driver but...

“I’d rather it was Petey.”

“Fuck you.”

Eddie looks at his watch, according to what he read on ‘Twitter’, earlier, Delilah‘s been in Lux twenty minutes. He considers the money at stake and decides. Sorry Devon.

“Alright, I don’t have time to argue, you drive.” He hands him the baggie of powder. “For after.”

“Okay.”

‘Twitter’ is a great way to stalk people and the timing is perfect. He’s got his window down and his gun ready and a primo shot at Delilah and the nameless collateral damage that’s hugging her. Both of them go down in a shower of broken glass, _he’s_ gonna get his payday from Barnes and then…

Devon fucks up.

It’s almost silent - the aftermath of the impact - and Eddie knows that he’s alone. He can hear liquid dripping; gas? Do cars really explode after an impact or is that just in the movies?

He closes his eyes, his breathing getting shallow. Feels peaceful…

Someone grabs him.

“Oh, no, no, no, not yet.” It’s Mr. Collateral Damage, only he’s _not_ hurt. At all.

Eddie gasps for air, the pain in his chest flaring into life.

“What did you do?”

“I'm sorry.” He is. He’s sorry he’s probably dying, right now and he’s sorry about Devon and the baggie of death.

"Sorry. Why did you end her life?”

“Why else? Money.”

"Money. Oh, it's times like this I wish I was still in Hell. All the fun activities I'd have planned for _you.”_

“Hey, man, I just pulled the trigger.” His last words, as it turns out. Not really a valid excuse and hardly _inspiring_ but, maybe, a hint that might lead to Barnes getting _his_ comeuppance.

The pain fades to nothing, as his soul slips from his body and, as he heads to _his_ comeuppance, the unprotected _nakedness_ of his disembodied _self_ brushes another.

Fire. Rage. Pain. Loss. Sorrow. Blinding light.

All of them dialled up to the Nth degree and terrifyingly overwhelming. He feels _self _thinning out, dissipating in the deluge. Please, _no_, it’s all I have…

With an almost _annoyed_ flick, the other soul cuts _his_ loose. He’s relieved that he’s alone, again. He’s…

Falling.

And he tumbles downwards, like those dreams where you wake up when you hit the bottom and when _he_ hits the bottom he’s not in his bed he’s…

In the back of the car, his ribs shattered, his blood bubbling in his lungs, the pain ramping up with every tortured breath. And he remembers. He remembers what the owner of the SOUL said to him.

“It's times like this I wish I was still in Hell. All the fun activities I'd have planned for _you.”_

And so, he waits.


End file.
